


The Rider

by JackieSBlake7



Category: King's War (TV series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 08:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackieSBlake7/pseuds/JackieSBlake7
Summary: Liu Bang encounters a horse with which he has a connection.





	The Rider

**Author's Note:**

> Set approximately at the beginning of episode 80 - and follows the events and characters as presented in the series.

The Rider

When he saw the village headman Liu Bang realised how far he had come since the fateful call for soldiers all those years ago: he could no longer remember what would please the man in front of him.  
The man and his companions were overawed by the palace – might even regard the visit and the meeting with the Han ruler, along with the tales of their journey they could tell their fellow villagers on their return, as partial reward for their action.  
What was obviously a warhorse, in full panoply, had wandered into their village seeking food and shelter, and no soldier had come asking after it. The villagers had cared for it while discussing what to do. They had decided to take it to “the authorities” rather than be accused at some future time of having used nefarious methods on an owner they had never seen. Besides, as one of them had said through the translator, it had obviously not been bred and trained for agricultural work: Liu Bang could understand their priorities.  
He looked at the Chief of Stables, who had taken charge of the horse. ‘What reward would you suggest?’  
‘They have done the right thing – something of what they need most of animals, carts, tools, even useful things for the village as a whole.’  
‘Arrange it – and some things for their women.’ Liu remembered that much. He indicated to the translator: the villagers were pleased with the response.  
The Chief of Stables nodded with a smile. ‘And similar, as appropriate, for other such occasions?’ The villagers and townspeople to some extent regarded the objects left after military encounters as a crop: whether for local usage or export elsewhere. No doubt a miscellany of items would be brought to the palace and to more local administrative leaders as information on the offer spread.  
‘Yes.’ Liu turned to the scribe. ‘Inform the appropriate officials thus. And … I do not object to occasional encounters such as this.’ He realised that there was still a little of the villager in him.  
‘It will be done.’  
Liu indicated the Chief of Stables stay, and the others left.  
‘What do you make of the horse?’  
‘He will need training and care, but is used to being in a military context.’  
‘What are his origins – which battles was he in?’  
‘From the fittings – his owner was originally from Chu, and fairly high ranking… and I do not think he escaped when his owner died in battle – no unhealed injuries, or damage to the fittings.’  
Liu had a peculiar feeling.  
‘Could it be Xiang Yu’s horse – he went into the last battle on foot.’ Liu could understand why Xiang would wish to save his horse if he expected or intended to die.  
‘Under the circumstances, possibly. Come and see the horse for yourself.’

The horse was a handsome beast and the fittings were of the quality Xiang would have expected.  
Liu recalled the times when he and Xiang had operated together, remembered some of the particular phrases the other man had used to his horses, stroked the creature and spoke gently.  
After a few moments’ puzzlement at the unfamiliar voice, the horse responded: Liu could sense its pleasure.  
‘It is his horse,’ Liu said softly, resting his cheek on its neck, his last connection with the other man. He was not expecting the overwhelming sense of pain and guilt that he now felt.  
‘What do you wish to do with the horse?’ the Chief of Stables asked when Liu turned back to him.  
‘Just … get rid of him… somehow.’ Liu said without thinking through his words, but knowing he could not face seeing this horse regularly.  
‘As you wish.’ The Chief of Stables took out a knife: Liu felt an immediate physical reaction… this was not what he had meant, but he could not say anything. The other man cut off a lock of the horse’s mane – the traditional memento of a favourite beast, or a friend’s mount, handed it over. ‘Take it.’ From the man’s expression, masked after a few moments he knew exactly what he had done to Liu, who accepted the rebuke. The animal was too valuable, trained, and healthy, to be disposed of: and Liu knew the Chief of Stables was passionate about the horses in his care. ‘I will arrange for him to be sent to Xiang’s family.’  
‘I … meant to say something like that,’ Liu said in apology. He would deal with the memento as other such.  
‘I know. And I will keep the mane and tail as intact as possible.’ Said with a slightly indulgent smile.  
Liu nodded in response, not trusting what he would say next.  
The Chief of Stables recalled something. ‘And you were asking for information why Xiang was occasionally called the blacksmith.’  
‘I did.’ Liu had been curious on hearing the reference. ‘You have found out why?’  
‘It seems he once went to a swordsmith’s workshop and was totally fascinated, went again, could not stop talking about it for weeks, so he was given the nickname as a joke, making reference also to his physical strength. He was amused enough not to complain.’  
That made sense – and Liu could normally appreciate craftmanship and the act of creating things himself.

As Liu went to the door Xiang’s horse whinnied – he missed the owner he had been reminded about. As the animal was being calmed Liu left hurriedly and sought out a quiet spot to calm himself.

****

Liu knew himself well enough to be aware when he had to sleep alone for whatever reason: sheer physical exhaustion or his injuries playing up – or when his sleep would be too disrupted by his thoughts. Tonight was one such occasion.  
He was drifting between wakefulness and sleep, both equally disturbed with fragments of memories and unpleasant dreams. Then he finally relaxed, and saw Xiang riding – he had, justifiably, taken pride in his skills at horsemanship: the beautiful jump Liu saw him take, whether seen in reality or reconstruction was one the other man would have wished to be remembered by.  
Then Liu was observing a landscape in what he knew was the Steppes – and there were people on horseback. They were from the tribes who were riders almost from before they could walk. He could understand to some extent their sheer pleasure of riding, being totally at ease with one’s horse and the landscape.  
They were speaking a language he could not understand – Liu had come across many such: and what was being said sounded no different to many other workaday discussions.  
There was something strangely familiar about this group’s leader.  
_You are Xiang Yu, in some future incarnation aren’t you?_ Liu realised with a slight shock. The man looked directly at him with an expression of puzzlement and a slight smile, his hand in an almost-greeting, then returned to his reality.  
The dream now moved in scattered images – it seemed, if this was not a mere construct of Liu’s imagination, that Xiang had more success, administrative skills, and a longer life in this future time, gaining hegemony over many tribes and regions and at one point was as old as Liu himself now was. In one of the military scenes what was now a very large army were attacking what looked like a more substantial version of the present barrier wall and earthworks to the west created by recent emperors to bar the way to the western tribes and another a siege of the city – much larger than in the present – round the Emperor’s palace.

Liu woke suddenly, the dream, if such it was, already fading in parts. He wished the dream narrative upon Xiang, and wondered what his own role would be in the events when they did occur.  
From the light it would soon be dawn – should he call for a companion?


End file.
